


Carried Away

by scienceofrebellion



Category: Homestuck, MS Paint Adventures
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, Blood, Convictstuck, Crimes & Criminals, M/M, Prison, Self-Harm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-06
Updated: 2013-07-06
Packaged: 2017-12-17 21:55:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/872373
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/scienceofrebellion/pseuds/scienceofrebellion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jake stares at him once again, this time with a look of fear on his face, the taste of the blood still present on his tongue, the scars on his face still stinging, the sound of Dirk's fragile, temporary heartbeat resounding in his head.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carried Away

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fanfic for the Convictstuck AU which can be found [here](http://convictstuck.tumblr.com).
> 
> TW: self-harm

The cell bars cast long shadows on the floor. He stared at them, counting each one, observing the way the shadows broke when they hit the wall and the bed and the ruts carved in the floor by past inmates.

Oh, so bored.  
  
He took a long drag from his cigarette and blew out slowly and thoroughly, as if to blow the boredom and dreariness away, out of his system, out of himself.  
  
Soon. He sighed and laid his head back, running his fingers through his blonde hair, already beginning to turn greasy from the lack of hygienic opportunities in this godforsaken place. Soon, though. He'll get out. He just has to be patient. It's just a waiting game, that's all.   
  
And once he's out, there's nothing he can't do. The world will be his.    
  
He closes his eyes and lay back against his pillow, his arm dangling over the side, cigarette still wedged between middle and forefinger. He hears a rustle of sheets and a creak from the bunk above him, before feeling a light brush as his cigarette is snatched from his hand.  
  
He opens his eyes. "Jake."   
  
There is laughter from above. The kind that makes your stomach turn and a chill run down your spine.   
  
Dirk leans out to the side and peers up at him. He's smiling. There is blood on his teeth.  
  
Dirk chews on his lip nonchalantly. "If you wanted a smoke, you could've just asked."   
  
He waits. Silence. Then he hears a sizzle and immediately gets out of bed. He knows that noise. It's the sound of a cigarette being pressed on skin.  
  
Dirk stands back to get a better view of him. He swallows at the sight.  
  
There are deep red gashes on the sides of Jake’s face, oozing blood. He fingers are in his mouth, and his teeth are gnashing loudly. Even from a distance, Dirk can tell that his fingernails are broken. Sharp and ragged from the biting, bloody from where he'd dragged them down his face.  
  
His eyes are closed, and there are tears coming from them. But his mouth is stretched into a grin.   
  
"J-Jade..." His eyes opened, glinting green. "Dearest, darling, dead, _Jade_..." He shudders, his bloody lips trembling.  
  
"English, slow down." Dirk's voice cut through the air like a knife. "You have to breathe. English?" He pauses. "Jake?"  
  
No response. Dirk felt a tiny twinge in the back of his mind, that ever-present instinct within him that warned him of danger, that feeling of _something just isn’t right here_ , that sense found deep in the conscience of every convict, and Dirk Strider being absolutely no exception.  
  
He hesitated.

Then, without thinking, he deftly pulled himself up to the top bunk.  
  
Instantly, hands are on his neck.  
  
"I th-thought I told you..." Jake wheezes, slack lips slowly turning into a grin. "...That the top b-bunk is mine." He laughs and tightens his grip.  
  
Dirk grit his teeth. He was right. English was having another one of his fits. If he didn’t patch this up quick, one or both of them might end up in the hospital. Or worse. The mortuary.

He could feel the boy’s nails digging into the muscles of his neck. Jake was stronger than he had expected. He wasn’t worried, though. He knew he had the advantage. Experience has taught him well.

Dirk wrapped one of his legs around Jake and using one arm, flipped off of the bunk, bringing the both of them crashing to the floor.  
  
Dirk landed on top of him, directly in the light, shadows of cell bars on their faces.   
  
He quickly moved away from English, not wanting to cause the boy to become even more aggressive, but he does not lessen the grip on his hand.

"I'm sorry, dude. I won't touch you again, alright?” He checked that Jake was recovering from the fall and continued. “But you have to listen to me, okay? We’ve done this before. Come on."  
  
Jake’s breath was heavy and loud in the quiet cell.  

He was trembling, but other than that, he made no movements or sounds for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he erupted in laughter, and his voice, barely a harsh whisper, cut through the silence.

" _I'll kill him...someday...I'll finish the job_ ," The laughter suddenly ceased, only to be replaced with sobs. "Jade...my dear, my dead, my sweet niece, killed b-b-by that, that _SCOUNDREL_...someday, _someday_..." He trailed off and bit his lips manically, drawing more blood, dripping and staining his prison jumpsuit. His chest shuddered again.  
  
Dirk looked directly into the boy’s green eyes. "Man, you have to breathe. Just keep listening, alright? Breathe slowly, in and out." He leaned in close and lowered his voice. "I told you I'd help you when we get out. Finish the job, and make a professional work out of it." Jake stopped and looked up at him. Dirk smiled. "You don't think I would skip out on a promise, do you? I want to help kill the guy who killed your niece, but I can't do that if you slice yourself up before we get out of here, can I?"   
  
There is a moment of silence before Jake nodded slowly and managed a few shaky breaths.   
  
"There we go," Dirk whispered. He squeezed Jake's hand comfortingly, glancing down at the dark cigarette burn on his wrist. 

They sat like that for several moments, listening to the sound of each other’s breathing; Dirk’s, light and quiet, Jake’s, heavy and ragged. They looked like a couple of psychopaths helping each other out, in their orange prison uniforms, spotted with sweat and blood. Maybe that’s all they were. Sometimes it felt that way.

And sometimes, Dirk thought, they felt like so much more.

He could tell that Jake was beginning to calm down. The usual look in his eye was beginning to replace the mad, “not-all-there” gleam that had shined so brightly only a few moments earlier, and he felt, very slightly, the sensation of Jake’s fingers grasping his tighter.  
  
Finally, Jake grinned at Dirk wearily.

"I suppose I must have got a little carried away," he said hoarsely, laughing. "I just get so...so _bloody_ excited when I-“ He stopped for a moment, as if to ready himself, and continued. “When I think of how I'm going to _do it_." He took in another shaky breath and grimaced. "Oh, Poor Jade, poor girl, my girl..." He closed his eyes for a moment, then opened them wide, green sparkling in the dimming red sunlight streaming through the bars. "Just got so carried away," he whispered, licking the blood from his lips.  
  
Dirk nodded and brushed a finger over the cigarette burn. Jake doesn't even flinch, instead staring at Dirk with a cheery smile on his face.   
  
"Say, thanks for calming me down," he said in his usual wavery voice.   
  
"No problem." He let go of Jake's hand, but Jake intertwined his fingers with Dirk's and pulled him closer.  
  
"I like how warm you are, chap," he said softly. "And the way you smell. Might do a gentleman good to move a little closer?"  
  
Dirk only needed a second to think about it before he smirks and relents, leaning back and pulling Jake close to him. He puts his arms around the bloody, broken boy and closes his eyes again. Jake rests his head on Dirk's chest. He listens to his heartbeat for a few moments, licking the blood on his lips, before suddenly moving away from Dirk.  
  
"What is it?" The blonde looked at him curiously. "Are you okay?"  
  
Jake stares at him once again, this time with a look of fear on his face, the taste of the blood still present on his tongue, the scars on his face still stinging, the sound of Dirk's fragile, temporary heartbeat resounding in his head.  
  
"Sorry,” he whispered. “I just got...a little carried away."


End file.
